Nightmare

I never know when I'm going to have the nightmare. It's a very specific one, that starts the same, ends the same, and happens whether my day has been fantastic, miserable or nothing special.

It's dark. The special kind of purple-black darkness that brings a heightened awareness to your skin, your eyes straining to see what isn't there. I can hear... things... on the other side of the door. The room I'm in has the dank quality of a basement. Concrete floors, and rough walls that my fingers brush lightly. I know I'm not alone. I can't hear breathing but I can sense the physical presence of another that has me spiraling into frantic tremors of fear. He doesn't say a word, my tormentor, but he doesn't have to. Just the thought of what he might do is enough to make me scurry backwards.... directly into his constricting embrace.

I wake up paralyzed, unable to move and terrified to open my eyes.

I hate that nightmare.

'Quel